The Liar's Paradox

I'm at an impasse once again.

The words, they leave me with a twist -

that of cold steel's piercing kiss.

Stabbed in the back by my own pen.

It seems the very lies I find

condemn me from the witness stand.

All too familiar with this brand

of bullshit produced inside my mind.

Turns out I'm not so innocent;

if anything, it's the opposite.

Not original, more a composite.

Just a fraudulent grandiloquent.

So do I keep on slinging knives

when the target's painted plain on me?

It's comical to think the truth I seek

could end up anything but contrived.

Yet something nags me deep within,

like my self-duplicity isn't unique.

Sorry if I hurt you with words I speak.

I'm just the tool of my reflection.